


impulse

by YukinaMika



Series: 2021 [8]
Category: Batman - All Media Types
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Dom/sub, M/M, Oral Sex, Restraints, Sex Toys, Trans Tim Drake, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-19
Updated: 2021-02-19
Packaged: 2021-03-15 06:07:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,858
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29554674
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/YukinaMika/pseuds/YukinaMika
Summary: Their relationship is not exclusive but Dick does not expect to find out that Tim hooks up with Slade.
Relationships: Tim Drake/Dick Grayson, Tim Drake/Dick Grayson/Slade Wilson, Tim Drake/Slade Wilson
Series: 2021 [8]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2084436
Comments: 1
Kudos: 35





	impulse

Their relationship is not, exactly… exclusive, to be honest. They have an understanding going on: either of them are free to hook up with whoever they want and they can bring anyone into their bedroom if permission is obtained. Still Dick feels something hot rising in his stomach when the news about Tim fucking Deathstroke, of all people, reaches his ears – or more or less, the evidence of Tim being fucked by someone who is undoubtedly Slade Wilson plays before his eyes.

Tim had said that what they have is professional: a trade of favors to satisfy each other's needs. He had sworn up and down that whatever baggage they have with either of them being on opposite sides of the track are left at the door.

"If you're so worried, you can watch us sometimes," Tim had huffed, arms crossed and a stubborn scowl on his lips, "Neither of us would mind it."

And Dick, while adrenaline was still coursing through his veins, had hissed out an agreement - a decision that haunted him later on. Yet being who he is, Dick stubbornly ignored the fact that he could redeem it – and maybe he is a bit curious, he tells himself as Tim drives him to the address Slade texted.

Soon enough, and most definitely unsurprisingly, he finds himself cuffed to the headboard of bed in a random safehouse that Slade has, getting an eyeful of Tim's cute and very much naked backside as he bends over to nurse at Slade's cock.

The sounds of Tim choking himself on Slade's cock are obscenely loud and the fingers of Tim's hands, which are bound at his back, curl and uncurl while his hips wiggle teasingly every so often. Dick is tenting in his pants just from the sight of the pucker rim fluttering around the cord of the vibrating bullet dangling between lovely hips, the increasingly wet slit that is just begging to be played with and the fact that he cannot take in the sight of Tim's lips wrapping around a cock has him quite miffed.

"Well," Slade drawls leisurely from the other end of the bed, a hand on the back of Tim's head, looking very much kept together even with a lovely mouth around his cock, "I can see that you are interested."

Dick shudders to think of what he could do with that hand - snapping Tim's neck or squeezing down, unmoving as Tim thrashes, only easing off when the life has been drained from his body. Shamefully, he feels his pants getting tighter – which opens a whole can of worm that Dick might not be ready to face right now.

"Tim is very pretty," he replies, instead of pouring over what exactly has him all hot and bothered: Tim's beautiful submission or Slade's commanding presence.

Slade smirks knowingly. And god if that does not fan the flames of arousal in his stomach. It has been years but it seems that Dick is still dancing on his palms just like he was back in the days.

"Heard that, slut?" Slade laughs, like the bastard that he is, hand clamping down around Tim’s slender neck, unrelenting even as Tim chokes on his cock, "Your brother thinks you're pretty."

Jesus.

Dick has to bite his tongue to swallow back the moan that so desperately wants to escape, blushing bright red at the cold amusement in Slade's single eye as he drags Tim off his cock. There seem to be tears in the rare glimpses Dick gets of Tim’s face but the young man lunges back in, lips wrapping around Slade's cock and whines, muffled and needy like he cannot stand the thought of not having Slade’s cock inside him.

"You liked that, didn't you," Slade looks almost cruel when he yanks Tim's head back by the grip of his hair. Dick cannot see what face Tim is making but Slade seems to be pleased -

\- until his palm cracks down on Tim's ass, prompting a hiss that does not entirely sound of pain.

Dick is sure that he makes a noise yet he cannot be certain what that noise is. He knows because Slade's attention turns to him in the form of raised eyebrow and a frown and boy, does it feel like being chastised like an unruly child.

"You are a bleeding heart, Grayson," Slade chides, manhandling a prone Tim until his back is flushed to Slade's chest, held up only by the grip in his hair, "Sluts needs a firm hand to put them in their place."

Dick... is sure that he means to make a noise of protest. This would have been the part where he challenges Slade about Tim’s supposed place yet instead, he finds his tongue heavy and his throat as dry as the desert at Tim's half-lidded eyes and the lovely flush that has been spreading down his chest. He watches, almost breathlessly, as Slade holds his eyes with that infuriating smirk, hand reaching down and down, brushing just a finger against the soaked folds, nary giving more than just feather-light touches even as Tim's hips buck up into the touch.

"This one, in particular, is terribly greedy," he continues in between teasing flicks at Tim's tiny cock, rubbing on the poor thing in a rhythm that Dick is sure he can make out if not for the dizzying bolt of pleasure at the sight right in front of his eyes, "The little bitch never refuses a chance to spread its legs."

Tim makes a sound not unlike a whine and Dick is sure that he mirrors it when Slade hooks Tim's legs over his raised knees, forcing them to spread wide. The act forces Tim's hole on display, tiny slit opening and closing with each gasping breath.

"I heard that you never play with this naughty ass," Slade starts conversationally as if his fingers are not pinching Tim's hard cock while the boy whimpers pitifully, all doe-eyed and teary, "Why, I would have thought that you, of all people, would have wanted to show your little brother the pleasure of being utterly filled."

Tim's strangled moan drowned out his. Dick knows, from the delighted look on Slade's face, that he is, at the very least, flustered. And well, there is definitely no way to hide the budge in his pants.

The old memories of being in Tim's place, being under Slade's mercy leave his guts churning with what he has discovered to be arousal - the kind that Slade helped him find out: the pleasure of submitting, of letting himself being owned.

Slade handled him with a firm hand, using him so thoroughly that Dick could have sworn that he still felt him days later. More than once or twice, Slade left him bruised and battered, cock still plugged up with his balls still heavy with his denied release and his throat would always be sore from the merciless abuse with the taste of Slade's cum lingering on his tongue while cum leaked out of his gaping ass.

But Tim is... different. Dick has always wanted to wrap him in blankets and feed him cookies rather than leashing him the way he does to his other partners. Their time together has always been sweet and passionate. Tim never fails to blush so beautifully when Dick takes his pretty cock inside his mouth while his fingers play with Tim's hole and only until he is trembling at the edge does Dick sink into his tight heat and fills him with his love. And after, they would lie side by side, warm and sated as they fall asleep.

Yet apparently, Tim's taste was not as tame as Dick had thought. Which of course, should be a given because it is unlikely that whoever falls into bed with Slade would settle for vanilla.

Dick, himself, never claims to not be kinky with his past records and, on second thought, maybe Tim’s taste is not as tamed as many, Dick included, seem to think. But in his mind, Tim is this precious little thing yet the image of his rim stretching and trembling as the still vibrating bullet is dragged out by its cord before the thick head of a cock takes its place does things to his lower region.

"Oh my," Slade coos, like he is witnessing something cute and not spearing Tim open and ignoring the tiny whimpers as his cock slides in inch after inch, "Perhaps you have thought that the little bitch would be satisfied with mere vanilla sex."

"Well, I certainly did not hear any complaints," he grumbles, throat suddenly dry at the sight of tears when the last inch slides in. His eyes are glued to where Slade and Tim are tied together and to the little slit above that is wet and dripping.

God, Tim's hole is possibly gushing. Dick can certainly remember taste, the lovely noises Tim made as he writhed and cried beneath his reverent care.

Had it not been for the cuffs, Dick would have reached out. For a touch. For a little bit of taste.

That... must have been why Slade had insisted on cuffing him to the bed. The sadistic fucker absolutely delights in tormenting others and Dick really should have known better from all the times he was drugged to the gills on aphrodisiac and restrained while the bastard beat himself off in front of him.

"Desperation is a good look on you," Slade hums, like the many times before, and drives into Tim's body with a hard thrust, jostling the poor boy in his lap, "I do, however, wonder whose position are you imagine yourself in: mine-" a hand curling in Tim's hair, slowly craning his head backward, putting the waiting expanse of deliciously unmarked skin of his neck on display as Slade's thrusts slow down into a stop, "-or his?"

The sounds Tim makes is... pathetic as he squirms, legs kicking lightly as he tries to bounce on Slade's cock. The hand in his hair the only thing keeping him from fucking himself.

"Greedy bitch."

Dick cries out at the very same moment Tim gives a pained yelp as Slade's palm cracks down on the soft flesh of his inner thigh. The mark left behind is a faint red, marring the pale skin.

Tim has always bruised easily - a thing that Dick loves for the sheer fact that he can cover Tim with his very own marks. Judging from the way Slade's lips curl into a smirk, Dick is not the only one who enjoys that.

"Well, Grayson?" Slade demands, rubbing at the place where he struck Tim, "Your answer?"

Dick entertains the idea of... not answering. He can just keep his mouth shut and let Slade run his.

But Slade would not let up. If he walks out of here, there will still be other times - on the field or in bed, if they ever fall into one together again.

"Can't make up your mind?" Slade hums, soothing a hand up and down Tim's leg - the gesture oddly tender, "Or perhaps you would like to be in the middle."

Dick's mind flies to that without any prompt. And boy, what a picture that makes: sandwiched between Slade and Tim, taking Slade like he used to while pounding into Tim's tiny body. Slade would stretch him out so good - the stretch borderlines on painful; Tim clamping down like a vice around his cock, heated walls fluttering desperately.

Dick is hard. And ready to burst. And no, he cannot get a hand on his cock. Not with his hands cuffed to the headboard.

Bummer...

"Need a hand with that, Grayson?" Slade laughs, like the jerk that he is, "I would never spurn a chance to get my hands on you."

Slade's single eye is intense. Like Dick is the only thing he sees and the writhing boy in his laps is nothing but a distraction.

Which, while flattering, irks him.

"And your hands are, currently, on my brother," saying those words bring a blush onto his cheeks but Dick schools his expression into something akin a glower, "Take care of him, properly, and I might entertain the notion of letting your hands anywhere near me."

Slade laughs. Like, full on laughter. Creep.

"Your wish is my command."

And with that, Tim is shoved to his knees, head pressed into the sheets by the firm hand at the back of his head. Knees spread wide and hips up, Slade thrusts in smoothly, blanketing the young boy with his bigger body, barely acknowledging the muffled moan that rings out in the quiet air. One sharp blue eye meets his and Slade’s lips curl into a smirk that sends shivers down his spines before Slade jack-hammers into the poor boy.

Tim jostles with each thrust, whimpering pitifully at the violent pace. His bound hands struggling for a grip but he can do nothing but locking his fingers together as he is fucked open by each relentless thrust, held down by the hand at the back of his head.

Slade never spares Tim even a glance as he, at a ferocious pace, thrusts into the twitching body beneath him. Instead, he holds Dick's eyes the whole time, lips stretch into an infuriating smirk even as he shudders and comes - Tim pliant like a doll beneath him. The boy shivers when Slade pulls out, hips giving aborted jerks as if seeking for more.

"Well?" Slade demands, threading fingers into Tim's sweat-soaked hair, "Was that to your satisfaction?"

Tim makes a tiny whimper, lashes fluttering delicately as he is hauled back to his knees. There is the faintest trace of drool at the corner of his slackened lips, and Dick is struck with a brief flash of jealousy that he is not the only one to witness this open and vulnerable side of his young lover.

His throat runs dry at the sight of shaking hips being forced open, at the hand that completely covers Tim's hard and aching cock. Slade's lips curl into a smirk when Dick lets out something not dissimilar to a moan, hand still tormenting the tiny cock with soft touches while ignoring the pleading whimpers as the boy in his grasp trembles like a leaf before vicious winds.

"Cat got your tongue, Grayson?" Slade sneers, wetting his fingers in the mess between Tim's thigh, "Or are you still not satisfied?"

Dick very carefully does not follow his gaze. He knows where Slade is looking at and damn would he let the bastard have the satisfaction of seeing him riled up any more than he already is. Instead, he focuses on Tim’s breathless moan as the hand between his thighs must have found its way inside and the wet sounds of fingers going in and out of Tim’s dripping hole echo in the room.

"No," comes out as a low rumble - an accident, really when he wants to appears as anything but riled up yet nonetheless has Slade grunting almost amusedly, "This is... enough."

The arch of Slade's eyebrow is condescending. It certainly calls forth the familiar shimmer of irritation but at the same time, his guts churns with arousal. The icy blue eye trails down his body and Dick does not need to be the detective that he was trained to be to know what Slade is staring at.

The reminder of the... problem between his legs, however, brings forth a blush as his blood rushes south. It coaxes a twitch out of him and he heaves a quiet exhale at the leering eye that Slade has on him.

Slade has never made a secret about how much he would love to get his hands on his once-upon-a-time apprentice. And then, there is Tim: pretty, precious Tim who, as per Slade's order at the beginning of this play if theirs, has been keeping his words to himself.

How strange is it, to not hear the usual banter and laughter. However, Dick is, more or less, intrigued by this side of his partner. Tim has always blushes so prettily under his praises that the idea of him becoming flustered and wet even when he is being called names is exhilarating.

He had never imagined Slade would hold an interest in Tim, or vice versa. Or at least, he had believed that until he accidentally checked the bugs in one of Tim’s places only to witness Slade fucking into Tim and the rest, as they say, is history.

"You sure about that, Grayson?" Slade raises a brow so casually even as his fingers are still fucking in and out of Tim’s hole, "You don't want to make use of the slut's holes?"

The sight of Tim, so small and, dare he say, fragile, in the grasp of a dangerous man as Slade has his blood pumping. And when Slade forces the cum-soaked fingers that were fucking into Tim moments ago into Tim’s mouth, playing with his tongue, well… Dick is a mortal, after all.

"If you insist..."

Slade grins, like the cat that got the cream. Like he has what he came for in his grasp.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm thinking of doing SladeRobin week but like that would mean making another tumblr.


End file.
